


five times nobody noticed reporter's crush and one time someone did

by aces_low



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Maybe that should be in the relationship tag, Nate and his pens, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_low/pseuds/aces_low
Summary: Reporter has a crush, thank god nobody notices. Or so he thinks.





	five times nobody noticed reporter's crush and one time someone did

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of Gen Kill Week - 5 times +1
> 
> For @jenbarber: thank you for loving this rare pair with me!
> 
>  
> 
> This is not meant to be a reflection of the real men, just an interpretation of the HBO show

one.

Evan is placed in the officer’s tent when he gets to Kuwait. He’s both disappointed and relieved, knowing that the real story is with the lower enlisted guys, but he’s already feeling a little overwhelmed by his new surroundings and he’s pretty sure the officer’s tent is the much calmer of the two options.

He is introduced to dozens of men - captains, lieutenants, sergeants and the rest - but on that first day, there’s only one name and face he remembers.

Nate Fick is young and even younger looking, and Evan just assumes he’s a corporal or private when Nate introduces himself. But it’s the bars on his collar, glinting under the desert sun, that tells him that Nate is a lieutenant. It’s Nate himself that tells him that he is the second platoon commander of Bravo company.

Evan meets dozens more after Nate, but his is the only name that springs to mind when he’s making his way to the dining tent, and it's only Nate’s face he recognizes in the crowd of people that he probably met earlier but can’t recall. So, he uses that excuse in his mind to approach Nate again and ask if he can sit with him.

Nate talks to him about everything, his reasoning for becoming a Marine, his time at Dartmouth, the set up for how Recon Marine’s operate. He is charming and intelligent and he has a clear sense of humor about the more ridiculous parts of the military, and he talks about his men like a proud father, even though he’s probably not much older than any of them, in fact, he’s younger than many of them.

When Evan puts his request in to Ferrando, asking to be placed with Bravo Second Platoon, he has an excuse in place if he’s asked why, because he’s heard they’re the best, because nobody talks more highly of their men than Nate Fick. 

If the reality is that Evan wants the opportunity to listen to the young Lieutenant talk more, nobody needs to know. And nobody asks.

 

two.

 

“Write this as you see it. I’m not here to stop you.”

They’ve only been in Iraq for 24 hours and there is already some wear on any shine that may have been in Fick’s eyes about what they will be doing here. 

Evan can see him torn between wanting to do what is right and needing to follow orders. 

He’d tried to walk away, to give them this moment of pushing morality aside for what they can only hope will be the greater good, but Nate had seen and stopped him. Telling him to use it all, to tell the whole story, both good and bad.

Not everyone likes what Evan is doing here, sure he only has plans to paint them in the poorest of lights. But Nate can see, he can understand the merits of the truth being told, regardless of how they look.

So, Evan watches Nate and he writes all of it. 

Or...almost all of it. Some things, Evan keeps for himself.

 

three.

 

He’s hiding behind the tire of a Humvee. Evan is not too proud to call what he’s doing hiding. There’s a firefight happening just feet away and as much as he wants to see what’s happening he also can’t get himself to move much further than occasionally peeking his head out from behind the tire.

It’s there that Nate finds him, kneeling down and looking for all the world like they’re all just having a fun time here in the desert.

He grins and Evan can’t help but feel the squirming that has been in his stomach over the bullets and mortars flying start up again for a very different reason.

“Most people in America right now probably think that Iraq is a dangerous country,” Nate says like he’s just coming up to chat or share another thought for Evan to write down. If he didn’t know Nate better, didn’t know just how much Nate cared, he’d wonder how seriously Nate was taking this situation.

“Now, if I were to stand up, I might get killed,” Nate continues. “But to us, behind this wheel, it’s pretty safe.”

Evan looks at the tire he’s been hiding behind for the last half hour, wondering if ‘safe’ is really the word he’d use for it.

“So, to us,” Nate’s voice has almost a laugh in it, his eyes wide as he tries to make a point that Evan realizes he needs to catch up to understand. “Iraq is a safe country. Right here. I feel pretty safe, do you feel safe?”

Evan can’t help but match the grin spreading across Nate’s lips, Nate’s energy can be infectious and Evan often finds himself wanting to match it, wanting to stay on Nate’s intellectual and emotional level.

He thinks about Nate question. He could have left after Nasiriyah, could be back in Kuwait, or on a plane home, but he chose not to. Some combination of a reckless belief in his immortality and the pure curiosity that prompted him to become a journalist in the first place keep him here, hiding behind the tire of a Humvee. 

That’s not the only thing keeping him here, though.

“Pretty safe, I guess,” he responds, not because he does or doesn’t believe his words, but because he wants Nate to believe them.

“See?” Nate says, continuing to grin and lightly hitting his arm. “It’s all relative.”

Evan can’t help the smile on his face as he watches Nate go, not for the first time wishing he could pick the lieutenant’s brain some more. Not just about their current circumstances, or even the military in general. He’s caught himself daydreaming several times about sitting down for coffee with Nate and just listening to him talk. 

Maybe when all of this is over, he tells himself, knowing it will never actually happen.

He shakes his head, looking away from Nate’s retreating form, glad that nobody can see his blatant staring. Glad that nobody has the time or inclination to notice that he stares far more than he should.

 

four.

 

He’s been through combat with nothing more between him and a bullet than good luck, he’s gotten used to mortars and bombs in the distance. He thinks he’s pretty good at holding his own against these marines when they continue to give him shit about working for Rolling Stone.

The one thing he hasn’t gotten able to handle better is Nate’s smile, especially when it’s directed at him. It’s big and looks like he’s unable to control himself from smiling so wide, showing off all of his teeth. There is a brightness in his eyes that has been fading more and more these last few weeks that always comes back in full force when Nate smiles for real.

So, excuse him if his heart stutters a little at the sight, and his hands get a little less steady. He’s only human, and Nate has a tendency to flash that large smile his way at random moments, catching him completely off guard.

Just like now, when he’s trying to get as many wrap-up interviews done before he leaves. He’ll be bothering them all again soon once he’s home and needs to fill out his story, but for now, he just needs some in the moment information, hopefully, free from the bias of time. And Nate just keeps laughing and smiling through parts of his stories and Evan is trying to write as quickly as he can while ignoring his too fast beating heart and his shaking, sweaty hands.

Eventually, though, Nate flashes one more smile his way, making eye contact and everything and the pen slips right out of his hands, rolling a little under the Humvee they’re standing next to.

Nate looks like he wants to laugh again at his lack of coordination, but he keeps his lips closed tight, though the twinkle in his eye gives him away. And Evan can’t even be annoyed, seeing Nate like this is a relief, a reminder of the man he’d met back in Kuwait. Knowing that their time in Iraq didn’t sap all the humor out of Nate is a good thing, even if it messes with Evan’s brain a little.

Gunny Wynn walks around the Humvee then, holding up his pen.

“How did you manage to ride in a bumpy Humvee without losing this thing, and now standing completely still you can’t keep a grip on it?” he asks, clearly not noticing Evan’s shaking hands and quick looks toward Nate.

“Maybe he just brought a lot of pens with him,” Nate offers as an idea.

“Or maybe he stole them from you,” Gunny throws back. “You probably wouldn’t even notice if a few went missing.”

Nate scowls, but it’s still jovial in nature and Evan can tell this is an ongoing teasing argument between the two men.

When he sees Evan’s questioning look Gunny explains. “Nate here was under the impression that you fight wars with pens.”

“I brought a few extra pens, just in case,” Nate says with an eye roll.

“He brought a box of them,” Gunny tells Evan, handing his pen back to him.

“A regular box of pens, you tell people it’s a box and they think it’s some kind of shipping container full of pens.”

Gunny just laughs and walks away and Nate turns to look at Evan.

“Did we get everything?” 

Evan shrugs and nods, not really needing much more from Nate that he can’t get later.

Nate smiles one last time at him before he goes to follow Wynn.

Evan wipes his sweaty hand on his jacket, relieved that he hadn’t been nearly as obvious as he had felt.

 

five.

 

He likes Ferrando, likes his dark humor and strange affectations. He also feels like maybe he wasn’t given the credit he was due by a lot of his men. 

But when Ferrando mentions the possibility of Nate not being fit for command Evan can’t help but feel an anger bubble up and his skin start to prickle at the implications. 

He wants to tell Ferrando that Nate Fick was the best officer they had out there, that none of his impulsive plans would have fared half as well if his men weren’t so competent and they didn’t have at least one leader who they could count on. He wants to tell him that he’s blind if he can’t see the bullshit coming from officers like Captain America and Encino Man but will acknowledge fault in Nate. 

While all that is running through his brain all he’s really able to get out is a scoff and a slight twitch to stop himself from standing up and putting a finger in a Marine Commander's face. 

“You should check your sources,” is all he manages to say, at least having the presence of mind to keep his comment mild enough. 

But his distress over someone bad-mouthing Nate appears to be seen regardless, as Ferrando waves his hands, placating, assuring Evan that he’d just been using that as an example of why he can’t listen to every complaint. 

Evan isn’t sure how embarrassed he should be that Ferrando knew to use Nate as his example, in order to make his point. But Ferrando isn’t looking at him with any sort of disgust or a knowing smirk.

He calms himself enough to realize that Ferrando is only seeing the respect he has for Nate, none of the other less respectful thoughts he’s had about him in these last few weeks.

That thought relaxes him as he departs, that any obvious signs he may have shown with his feelings toward Nate were just taken as respect by those around him.

Or so he thinks.

 

\+ one.

Out on the back patio of Mike Wynn’s home, sitting and talking with Tony Espera, looking out into the darkened night, Evan almost feels like he’s back in Iraq. Only, he’s not wearing the god awful MOPP suit, Poke is able to smoke his cigar without them laying underneath a Humvee, and there aren’t explosions going off in the foreground for them to watch.

When Mike had invited him along for a Bravo company party he had been surprised and touched. He’d also been nervous about seeing Nate again. They’d exchanged a handful of emails between them, but it hadn’t been the same as watching and listening to Nate speak. Though the distance helped clear Evan’s head enough to realize how ridiculous and far-fetched his crush had been.

Seeing him again had brought back some of those feelings from Iraq, but the knowledge that he won’t be seeing Nate every day had helped him keep his mind from spiraling too much.

“Hey Poke, Reporter,” Nate greets them as he walks up, grinning at the nicknames.

The darkness swallows some of his features, but not enough for his smile to have no effect on Evan. He’s sure Nate’s smile will always get a reaction out of him.

“Well, hey _Captain_ ,” Poke says back, making sure to draw the word out.

Evan frowns. “You were made Captain?”

Nate shifts his stance and nods.

“Congratulations, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It just happened a few days ago,” Nate tells him, and there’s no real sense of pride in his voice of the promotion, and Evan can guess why.

Nate had mentioned one night, back in Iraq, about how he’d considered going to grad school if the marines hadn’t worked out for him. After his time there, the frustrations, the questions, Evan has a feeling that grad school became a more viable option to Nate.

Instead of saying any of that, Nate just shifts where he stands again. “I just wanted to see if either of you wanted another drink.”

They both decline and Nate leaves them once again. Evan can’t help but watch him go, wishing he’d stay and talk, talk about Iraq, or grad school, or anything he wanted to talk about. He never really cared when it came from Nate.

Once Nate is back inside he turns back to look at Poke again who is shaking his head.

“What?”

“You are so desperate, dawg.”

“W-what?” he asks, attempting to laugh through the panic that’s risen up.

“You think I haven’t seen the way you make eyes at the LT? All through Iraq and even now that we’re back home it’s still there.”

“I thought he was a Captain now,” is all Evan is able to get out, shocked that someone had actually noticed this whole time. Of course, he should have guessed if there had been anyone to see it, it would be Espera.

Poke laughs but doesn’t tell him that he’s going straight to Nate with this information, so Evan relaxes a little in his seat. Though, he has something in his back pocket in case Poke ever does try to use his feelings for Nate Fick against him.

“Well, we can’t all hide our crushes under layers of condescension and racial debates like you do with Colbert.”

There’s a large stream of smoke that spills out of Poke’s mouth as he coughs, choking through his own shock at being noticed. 

Once he’s able to breathe again he just sends a glare at Evan, before shaking his head and grinning. 

“Yeah, we’re a pretty fucked up pair, but at least I play it cool, you’re one smile away from dropping to your knees.” 

Evan punches him hard in the shoulder and Poke laughs, taking another puff of his cigar.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
